The Arranged Marriage
by LadyRhiyana
Summary: A series of loosely connected vignettes on an arranged marriage. Lucius/Narcissa. Ch 3: Burdens. Lucius has trouble facing himself in the mirror.
1. All We Have Left

**A/N – **A series of loosely connected vignettes on an arranged marriage. My first real attempt at Lucius/Narcissa.

Also, please forgive the poor formatting.

**Disclaimer – **I don't own HP, any of the canon characters, settings or situations. No money was made in the creation of this.

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**All We Have Left**

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The Aurors were finally gone, jackbooted tyrants intent on stripping the Manor of everything they could. In their lust for vengeance, they had completed what Voldemort, incensed at Draco's failure, had begun – humiliation and disgrace, stripping the Manor of all its luxuries and graces, just as they had stripped Lucius of his fortune and his reputation, destroying his influence and his position in society.

In the midst of ruin, only three things remained: the House, cold, ancient stone and echoing corridors; the Malfoy Name, hated, feared, courted; and pride.

Even in darkest, bitterest defeat, there was pride.

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Huddled before the fire in her chambers, in what had once been her refuge from the outside world, Narcissa felt smothered by the echoing silence, painful and awkward and full of things unsaid. Lucius knelt before her, his white, elegant hands enfolding hers, offering what comfort he could.

"My dear," he began, his voice low and intent, as it had once been on that one, perfect day so long ago. The comparison almost broke her heart. "My dear Narcissa…" he trailed off almost awkwardly.

His head was bowed, his shoulders set, as though he braced himself against her recrimination. She knew, in that moment, that he would accept whatever accusation she chose to throw at him. She also knew that she would say nothing. Whatever grievances she might have, she would not break him, not now, not when the combined forces of the Death Eaters, the post-war Ministry and the vengeful Order of the Phoenix could not.

"I know," she whispered. "I know." Slowly, gently, she brought their joined hands to her lips. The soft, feather-light touch brought his face up to hers, his grey eyes for once utterly transparent.

Her breath caught.

"I _chose_ you, Lucius," she said, "that long-ago day, of my own free will. I have never regretted it, not once; not even now."

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	2. The Arranged Marriage

**Disclaimer – **I do not own HP, any of the canon characters, settings or situations. No money was made in the writing of this fic. Don't sue.

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**The Arranged Marriage**

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She had not been allowed to go to school.

Her mother had kept her at home, the youngest, the favourite; beautiful, graceful Narcissa, who had been betrothed to the Malfoy heir in the cradle. From the time she was old enough to understand, it had been drummed into her that she was to marry Lucius Malfoy – a splendid match for the Black family, land-rich and cash-poor, with nothing but their impeccable lineage to recommend them.

What Lucius thought of it, she never knew. He kept so many things to himself.

She had met him only once before their marriage. She'd been thirteen, her hair still in plaits, freckles still scattered across her nose. He'd been nearly nineteen, a splendid figure; tall and fair and beautiful in his arrogance. It was a glorious summer day, and they were both swathed in heavy dress robes; he'd smiled at her – the warm, wry humour of a fellow sufferer.

That day lived in her memories as one of the most perfect moments of her life. Somehow, he'd charmed her mother into letting her accompany him on a picnic, showing him about the estate. Out of sight of the house, they'd stripped off their stifling outer robes, perched on the bank of a tiny rippling stream, and dangled their bare feet in the flowing water. He'd leaned back on his elbows, dappled sunlight shining on his face and his white hair, and he'd seemed a creature out of a wondrous dream, exotic and alien, and she'd been fascinated by him. They talked – of the world outside her shelter, of her shy dreams, and slowly, as he drew her out, she confided in him her secret rebellions.

After she came to a shy finish, she could not decipher the expression on his face. "Narcissa," he said, not looking at her, "if you do not wish to be bound by this contract between us, then tell me now. I will break it off – there will be no repercussions, and you will be allowed to lead an ordinary life, to go to school, to make friends and have adventures just like any other girl."

Mere hours before, she would have said, deep down in her heart, that she would have liked nothing more. But that was before he smiled at her, like a companion, like a _friend¸_ before they dabbled their feet in the water, before she told him the secrets of her heart and soul and gave him more trust than she had ever given anyone else in her life.

Before she knew Lucius as a man, as a husband, she knew him as something infinitely more precious – as a _friend._ She made her choice, and made it with all of her heart.

They were married when she was sixteen.


	3. Burdens

**A/N** – A short drabble. Lucius has trouble facing himself in the mirror.  
**Disclaimer** – I don't own HP, any of the canon characters, settings or situations. Don't sue.

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**Burdens**

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Lucius was not the best of husbands.

He had married for convenience, not for love or choice. He'd given her everything: wealth, position, security, everything except himself. But as the days grew darker and bloodier, as he was drawn deeper and deeper into the Dark Lord's toils, he found himself returning to his clear-eyed, naive child-wife and laying what he could of himself into her lap.

She listened, and did not judge. How could she? Raised in pureblooded luxury and seclusion, she knew nothing of the world outside the great Houses.

_I know nothing of grand matters and politics_, she whispered to him in her low, sweet voice. _But I do know this: we are forever bound, you and I._

Lucius had married for convenience, for wealth, breeding, social position. But he had forgotten the truth behind the fashionably empty façade: pureblood marriage vows were sealed in blood. Their fates would never be separated. If Lucius fell, so too would Narcissa.

And, knowing this, she still trusted him.

Under the burden of her expectations and trust, Lucius found himself ashamed.


End file.
